


Delirium

by vianna_orchidia



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: F/M, Mental Health Issues, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vianna_orchidia/pseuds/vianna_orchidia
Summary: Tell her a story, sing her a harmony, and take her to the land of delirious meetings and too-good-to-be-true people. Then maybe she will give you a smile.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An old work reposted from my blog and FFn.

She had been talking to the wall.  
  
At first she tried talking to the mirror. It wasn't anyone's suggestion, really—she just felt overwhelmed at one point and needed to vent off, but punching at the wall would leave marks on her fist and throwing things would make a mess in her house, _and_ both would make her depression obvious to others even though she didn't want them to find out. So she figured talking her heart out would do the trick. Talking without a partner gave her the creep so she tried talking to her own reflection, but it turned out to be another obstacle as she found herself unable to watch the hollow eyes, the bones in her cheeks, the frown. Before she shatter the mirror with her fist, she chose to stop trying at all.  
  
In the end, she looked at the wall and pictured a random face that would _never_ betray her, and started talking.

 

* * *

 

"Her family found out about two weeks ago. By then, her case had been at a worrisome point where she would barely talk except with her 'partner'," he explained to the young doctor. "And it's a little disturbing, you know, when she sits in front of a wall then starts talking with soft features, even for me. This is not even my first, but she unnerves me."  
  
The young doctor, a lean man with messy silver hair, hummed his confirmation. "But sir, with all due respect, I am not specializing in mental health. I'm aiming for pediatrics. Why am I being summoned here?"  
  
"Nah, you're not here to examine her."  
  
"Sir?" The silverette frowned even deeper.  
  
The older of the two, Doctor Amodar, gave the silverette a hesitant glance. When he spoke, it was with careful words. "The thing is... She has a name for her wall-friend. It is only recently we found it, after many attempts to make her say anything. At first we didn't quite catch that it's a name, given the... unusual nature it has."  
  
The young doctor felt his heart sped at this. Somehow he could feel an ominous feeling trickle along his spine. "And that is...?" he asked slowly.  
  
"His name is Hope. The same as your name."  
  
Hope. Doctor Amodar was right; it was an unusual name, which made the similarity of their names felt too much of a coincidence. He could understand why the hospital would want him to take a look at this patient.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes she felt a strange sensation as she spoke to the imaginary face on her wall. It was weird, how she easily conjured snow-white messy hair and doe-like green eyes out of nowhere, not even a second thought before she decided _this was it_. And the unnatural sense of familiarity—it almost felt like the face of someone she knew, once upon a time ago, but she knew her memories (despite what people in this facility said about her) and she knew there was no one like her wall-friend. Ah, and by wall-friend she meant Hope. There was it again. Where could that name come from? She didn't know, the name just kind of popped up in her mind, on the tip of her tongue, whenever she pictured the familiar face on the wall.  
  
In one of her deep wondering, she thought that maybe in her past life he had been someone special. (She only entertained this idea for so long, though; she's in no way a romanticist like that, thank you very much.)  
  
And yet this miracle happened. The familiar face, the familiar eyes, the familiar tuft of long messy hair—all appeared in front of her in the form of a young man. Not only an image of face on the wall, but a complete, breathing version of that. And he was older, was _way_ more handsome than the one in her mind it took her breath away. Seconds seemed to slow down as she stared in awe and disbelief. Was it really possible that someone could have the exact same features as her imaginary Hope? Or was she asleep and this was merely a dream?  
  
The notion of still dreaming was crushed when she heard the young man exhaled loudly, a look of confusion and something else crossing his fair features. He eyed her warily while she stared up at his eyes, mesmerized and overwhelmed all the same.  
  
The tension between them was cut when the fat doctor beside this young man fake-coughed.  
"So, doctor? This is miss Farron."  
  
Blinking once, the young man finally tore his eyes off of her. "I... don't think I know this lady," he said slowly, hesitantly.  
  
 "Are you sure?"  
  
Claire kept her eyes glued on him, and that's how she knew that no, he was not sure. She watched him glance awkwardly at her, a frown on his face, before looking away again. She had been in her field of job for so long before depression claimed her to easily pick up the signs of uncertainty from him despite his good acting to convince otherwise. He was certainly confused.  
  
Was he confused by the same reason as her?  
  
She decided to try something.  
  
"Is your name Hope?"  
  
He flinched. Claire gave him an irritated look at his reaction that made him look almost embarrassed. To the side, Doctor Amodar watched their interaction with utmost interest. He had not expected the patient to be the initiator of a conversation. Did it mean this young man was indeed related to Miss Farron? But she asked for his name. Unsure how to take things, he decided to simply watch.  
  
Hope eyed the pink-haired woman the same way she eyed him back. He swallowed visibly, then straightened his back. "Hope Estheim, intern at pediatrics section, ma'am."  
  
The formal, serious tone he used when announcing his name was almost hilarious as it was endearing. She could imagine him introducing himself with a different garb (yellow-white suit with blue tie, a bad combination but on him it looked dashing) and right hand clasped over his heart, determination lacing his eyes and voice. Claire's eyes perked up in laughter. It felt almost nostalgic. She ignored the awed expression of the two males in the room as they watched her laugh softly.  
  
"Hope Estheim," she tasted the name on her tongue. "My name is Claire Farron."

 

* * *

 

Talking with her felt more natural than it should be, Hope Estheim mused as they chattered in low voice on the soft grass under sakura tree. Sometimes throwing retorts and banters. She was strong and audacious and so beautiful, she made him melt. He was even surprised to know she's 28, because her complexion certainly told him she was younger.  
  
There were also times when he would casually call her Lightning, or Light in short. The first time he did that, it literally came out of nowhere it caught her off guard, but it had sounded so damn right they let it slide. Then the second, third time came and they no longer cared if he called her Claire or Light. (She loved it whenever he called her Light softly, sweetly, like she's the speck of light in his world of darkness and despair. And she liked it whenever he called her Lightning with admiration, like she's the strongest person in the world despite her hospital gown—not that she'd admit it though.)  
  
He didn't say anything, but Hope was still bewildered at how things progressed too smoothly between them. The air of familiarity between them. The almost immediate throb in his heart at her smallest smile. Even the things they knew beforehand, like the state of her family ("Did Serah marry Snow? _Finally_?") and the name of his parents ("How are Bartholomew and Nora?"), started to become frightening. He knew this was not natural, but he couldn't find any answer to this problem. He's not used to not finding solution.  
  
"What's on your mind?" Her low voice took him out of his reverie.  
  
"It's... nothing."  
  
Chuckling, Claire shot him an accusing look. "You're a terrible liar."  
  
Hope smiled ruefully. "Only because you read me too well, Claire." He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back onto his chest, her body sitting snugly between his legs. He was painfully aware that they were being too intimate when they were not dating. They only knew each other for a couple of weeks, even. But he couldn't stop the lingering affection for her, the constant need to hold her close and protect her from any threat. (Because he hadn't been able then—wait, what?)  
  
(He had a girlfriend too, which made things worse. He had been trying to break up with her without giving much-too-illogical excuses. Of course he always failed.)  
  
"So? What's wrong, Hope?"  
  
Still smiling, he put his chin on the crown of her head. "I've been thinking about us." He could feel her getting tense beneath his touch.  
  
"What about us?" she asked carefully.  
  
"Well, everything. Like getting comfortable like _this_ ," he shrugged to emphasize his point, "when we are practically strangers, exchanging names just two weeks ago."  
  
She was quiet, and when she spoke up her voice was almost whisper. "I don't feel like strangers."  
  
"I know; me too. But this is way too strange. It doesn't even make sense. Don't you think so, Claire?"  
  
"Hmph. You know what? I'm done being logical," she spat out. "In the military, we had to do inhuman things, and the only way to keep moving is being logical. 'If we don't do this, more people will be in danger', 'just keep your eyes front', and so on. I used to be like that too. But look where it got me: I pushed Serah away. I stopped being a human. In the end, it cracked me. It's also how you found me, anyway." She smiled at the last sentence. "I know this is weird and illogical, but the emotional side of me insists that I accept it the way it is. So I do, Hope, because I've learnt how lonely it gets when your emotions leave you."  
  
Hope stared wide-eyed at the woman in his arms. At that moment she looked true to her age, seven whole years older than him, all the wiser and understanding. He took a shaky breath, unable to resist the warmth blossoming in his chest, and leaned closer to her side-turned face. "I can never be as strong as you, Light," he whispered before pressing his lips on hers.  
  
Claire gasped at the feel of his soft, moist lips pressed gently on her own. It was their first kiss. It was chaste and brief.  
  
Quickly pulling away, Hope felt his cheeks burn as he struggled for words. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking and-"  
  
"It's okay," she cut him off. "I liked it. You're a good kisser."  
  
"No, I shouldn't have done it..." He sighed. He wondered if this was finally time to tell her the main reason why he couldn't ease up. "I have a girlfriend, Claire," he told her quietly.  
  
She blanched.  
  
"I haven't had the chance to tell her about you... No, I was unsure of how to tell her about you. I was still unsure about us." Hope was not meeting her gaze, but then he realized that's not going to work so he closed his eyes briefly to steel his heart and finally faced her. His jade eyes were resolute, all but looking at one path: her. "But your words, Claire, they give me courage. I know I'm not afraid anymore. I... I'll tell her when I see her tomorrow."  
  
However, while Hope clearly had found where he wanted to go from there, Claire was obviously still having a hard time digesting this new piece of information. "Wait, you mean... You were... And I was..." She was mildly stuttering. Her body shivered as a soft gust of spring wind passed by.  
  
"Claire?"  
  
She looked up at his face, eyes searching in a frenzy. She was clearly upset. Her pupils looked dilated, something that Hope saw only once during their first encounter, in that desolate facility room. "Were you happy with her? Did I... Did I rob you of your happiness with her?"  
  
Her voice was beaten and weak and he hated himself for a moment. He told himself to protect her, not pushing her into the verge of tears like this, dammit! Of course she felt guilty, wasn't she always a soft-hearted, self-punishing person? Wasn't that how she got into this facility in the first place? "Claire, no, listen to me."  
  
Claire shook her head stubbornly. " _You_ answer me, Hope."  
  
Hope swallowed. "I... I don't know—I thought I was happy. But then I met you and the world agrees and I..." Her expression stayed neutral but her eyes were catching fire, and he loved it. There was no mistaking it. "You're the one, Claire. My only one."  
  
Closing her eyes, Claire exhaled. "Will you kiss me again tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes!"

 

* * *

.

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**Optional ending**

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* * *

 

_Hey, open your eyes._  
  
She did. She felt light seep into her field of vision and her limbs slowly waking up. She could also feel soft glitter rolling around her body, but she couldn't catch what kind of glitter it was.  
  
Then suddenly she inhaled deeply, feeling more alive than ever, like she had been sleeping for so long.  
Snow, Sazh and Hope cluttered around her, all having the same disoriented expression on their face. Before them was the crystal pillar with Cocoon on top of it, and she finally realized.  
  
It had been a crystal dream.  
  
A discreet look was thrown at her direction the same time she threw one at Hope, and they held each other's gaze for several seconds, exchanging confirmations. That's how Lightning knew that Hope had seen the same dream. They were together, embracing and kissing and he told her she's his only one. She suddenly felt hyperventilated.  
  
"Light," he started, a little concerned. Lightning felt her cheeks burn because she found herself disappointed he's not yet 21 like in her dream.  
  
"We'll talk about it later, Hope."  
  
He nodded. "I... I just want to say that... everything I said back then is true. I... still feel the same."  
  
Lightning smiled.  
  
"Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I keep making endings I don't mean to make but can never erase?


End file.
